Memories
by Tabbycat2000
Summary: um... Padme thinks about Anakin the morning after the wedding scene


Memories

The rising run crept over the horizon, a flaming ball of red and orange, surrounded by a halo of filmy clouds that burned pink and purple in the newborn light. A few birds dashed across the sky, their cries the only sounds apart from the crashing of waves on rock and leaves rustling in the wind.

Padme Amidala Skywalker leaned her elbows on the railing, smiling to herself as the playful zephyr toyed with her long, unruly curls of hair. She rarely woke before the sunrise, but today she felt was a special occasion and deserved an early morning reprieve.

She'd been married last night. Hard to fathom, really. Especially when she considered her new husband, the tall, troubled young man who, beyond all common sense, had stolen her heart and hadn't even the decency to give it back.

Not that she minded. He could keep it for the rest of her life.

Fate had a highly developed sense of irony, Padme decided. Either that or Fate simply loved to create impossible circumstances.

Anakin Skywalker, once upon a time, had been a blonde-haired little boy, blue eyes filled with aspirations and dreams and hopes that, given his slave status, he could never hope to achieve. A little boy who, in childlike innocence strange for a boy who'd been a slave all his life, had asked if she were an angel.

At that time Padme had considered him little more than a loveable child who might be useful in the galactic scheme of things. Fourteen years old and already ruler of an entire planet, she didn't have time to worry about little details like him, a boy with a quite obvious crush on her.

Fast-forward ten years, to her private quarters on Coruscant. She'd been mixed up in so many emotions- eagerness to see an old friend, irritation at having _more_ security, worry about the state of affairs, about what was happening to the Republic.

Then in marched Obi-Won, bearded and with longer hair but with an air of acquired wisdom that she found comforting. And right behind him, towering over his master by at least six inches, was Anakin Skywalker.

He was most definitely no longer an innocent little boy. Padme had barely recognized him. But no amount of time could erase the dreams and desires flickering in his eyes, the color of a Naboo ocean.

So much had happened since then, so much that it was mind-boggling to contemplate. She hadn't been in that many dangerous situations since the war on Naboo, and even then it hadn't been nearly as extreme.

And through it all, the strange magnetism possessed by this arrogant, jaded, hopeful man of twenty. Watching over her constantly, both to obey his orders and for pure personal reasons.

Being with him, learning about who he now was, had been a pleasant agony. To love him, to have such a depth of feeling for him, and to be unable to act on it. Exiled from each other by their careers.

But then, Fate also doesn't give a hoot about career choices. Padme smiled at that thought.

He was four years her junior, and while he was a grown man in some ways he was very much the young boy she'd first known in others. Those secret aspects of him, the things he hid from almost everyone else, had drawn her to him like a tractor beam.

Now she was married to him. Probably the only truly insane thing she'd ever done in her life. But, after spending a lifetime looking after everyone but herself, she deserved to do something impetuous for its own sake.

Exactly how the idea to be married had come about, she didn't know. It was like some unspoken agreement between them, one that wasn't spoken until they actually reached Naboo, two days ago.

"I really must be going mad," Padme said to the rising sun, a smile on her lips. "But in a highly pleasant manner."

There were footsteps on the patio, the slight slapping sound of bare feet on stone. There was a muffled yawn and a soft clicking noise.

"Really? How so?" Anakin appeared and leaned against the rail to Padme's left. His hair had several cowlicks and he had the general rumpled appearance of someone just woken from deep sleep. He wore a loose shirt, more to hide as much of the prosthetic arm as possible than for any other reason. He had jokingly compared himself to C-3PO a few times, but Padme knew he truly disliked the golden arm he'd been given. But what choice did he have?

Padme shrugged and gestured vaguely. "Everything I've been silly enough to do lately. I haven't been this reckless—or maybe just impetuous—since before I was elected Queen."

"Long time to go without fun," Anakin said idly. "But what're you doing out here? The sun's just barely up."

"Thinking. About everything and nothing."

"Ah. That again."

Padme laughed and pushed his arm gently. "Very funny, Anakin."

"Hmm." Anakin stifled another yawn. "I'll leave you to it, I guess. Unless you want to say something about it."

Padme shook her head. "No. You'll think it's silly. But let's go in and get breakfast, I'm hungry."

They walked back into the villa together, arm in arm, ready for whatever the galaxy and Fate could heap upon them.


End file.
